


I See A Place

by ChloeInTheAfternoon



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeInTheAfternoon/pseuds/ChloeInTheAfternoon
Summary: Nathan Summers might not be from the future, but he certainly has a plan for it.





	I See A Place

_“And let me tell you, these – they complain about our guns, these people. Want to come into our houses, and take away our guns, but you bring up the ticking time bomb living next door, and it’s – suddenly it’s politically incorrect, it’s ‘oooh, you can’t say that, that’s offensive,’ or – you know, do you know how much crime in this country is committed by mutants? I’ve seen the numbers, they showed me the numbers-“_

Wade Wilson rolled his head, chin propped on his right hand, to squint bitchily at the small flat screen in the corner, just in time to observe an unfortunate close up of the President of the United States, frothing at the mouth in front of a restless crowd. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Wade had cushion-stuffing digging into his ass where the leather of the bar stool was cracked.

Unfortunately, the good stool had been claimed by the bar’s only other patron, a man entirely too well-coiffed to be at Sister Margaret's while the sun was shining. Had Wade been in a more discerning mood, he might have found his presence suspicious, but as such, he’d decided to ignore him in favor of Weasel’s far more interesting collection of bottom shelf liquor.

_“-telling me it is bigoted to be concerned about the welfare of American children? Well America was founded by humans. It was built by humans. Humans were here first, and we should come-“_

“Can you turn this shit off, Weas? Maybe put on something that doesn’t make me wanna blow my brains out? Some yacht rock? I’m in a Steely Dan sorta mood.”

Wade turned from the TV to shoot a look down the bar at his friend, picking up his empty glass and motioning for another round as he spoke. Weasel finished pretending to wipe down the same portion of the bar he'd been listlessly pawing at for a good ten minutes and made his way toward the ratty stool upon which Wade was perched, looking bemusedly at the screen. Anderson Cooper’s grim face had now replaced footage from the rally, sharing a split-screen with a man attractive enough that Wade briefly toyed with the idea of letting Weasel keep the television on.

_“-and to respond to these controversial remarks, we are here with Senator Nathan Summers. Senator Summers, how are you doing today?”_

Wade never did hear how Senator Nathan Summers was doing, as his desire to look at Senator Nathan Summers’ appealingly stern mouth was overcome by his desire not to hear whatever boring drivel spilled out of it. He hooked his heel onto his footrest and propelled himself forward, sprawling in an awkward belly flop over the counter to poke his head under the bar. He had managed to tip over a Kleenex box and a bottle of vodka in his haphazard search for the remote before Weasel grabbed him by the sides of his head. The evil stool squeaked in protest as Wade was shoved roughly back into his seat.

“You’re paying for that Tito’s, Wade!”

“Oh no, how will I possibly afford it?”

Weasel pulled the remote out of his back pocket, waggling it menacingly. “I’ll turn the TV off but I’m not playing any Steely Fuckin’ Dan.”

“I’ll just sing it, then,” Wade threatened.

Weasel managed an impressively melodramatic eye roll before pointing the remote over his shoulder, cutting off Senator Summers’ impassioned defense of mutant-kind. He poured a less than generous splash of Seagram’s into Wade’s tumbler and started to turn, before thinking better of it and putting a hand over the glass.

“Please don’t try to drink that one through the mask. Watching that was somehow even less pleasant than looking at your face.”

Wade tensed, giving the glass a tug. Weasel’s grip tightened, eyebrows expectantly raised. Wade heaved an almighty sigh and rolled his head to either side in irritated deliberation before lifting his mask to reveal mottled skin. Weasel removed his hand and Wade swiftly drained the glass.

“I was watching that.”

Both Weasel and Wade turned to look incredulously at the man seated at the far end of the bar. Sister Margaret's was a bar kept afloat by its regulars, and this man certainly was not that. He’d have known to keep his trap shut, otherwise. The man was dressed like someone trying not to be remembered, and boy, did he have the face for it. Wade decided that his name was probably Michael. 

Probably Michael stood and made his way toward them, sliding into the stool next to Wade. “Senator Summers is something of a special interest of mine. Do you know anything about him?”

Wade considered saying the thing about Senator Summer’s appealingly stern lips, but decided to play his cards close to the vest. His mouth immediately disregarded this plan.

"Dude’s got a sexy jaw area. Just like, the whole, mouth region, or whatever.” Wade gestured limply toward his own ruined face. Both Weasel and Michael were visibly off-put by this answer, so he continued. “But he seems like a boring douche.”

Michael blinked and pursed his significantly less appealing mouth region. “Looks aside, Nathan Summers poses a problem for my employer.”

 _His employer_. Wade inwardly and outwardly rolled his eyes.

“We believe that he could provide a rallying point for mutant-kind. A strong figurehead for an otherwise disorganized political movement. We even see a presidential run in his future. However, we suspect that Mr. Summers has a much more powerful mutation than he lets on.”

Michael paused as though this were supposed to be some kind of meaningful revelation. When neither Wade nor Weasel reacted, he continued.

“As you may be aware, Mr. Summers has heretofore refused to reveal the specifics of his mutation, going so far as to compare it to being outed as a homosexual. However, we have reason to believe that his motives might be more self-serving than a simple political stance. What we would like from you, Deadpool, is to out him.”

“Out him,” Wade repeated. “How?”

“We would be willing to pay a handsome fee if you were to publicly attempt to assassinate Mr. Summers. Emphasis,” he said, “on publicly.”

“Attempt?” Wade parroted, slightly offended.

“And you’re thinking that this guy is gonna have to use his secretly powerful mutant powers to very publicly protect himself?” Weasel asked. Michael gave a slight nod before looking back to Wade.

“Your reputation doesn’t exactly lend itself to subtlety.”

Wade couldn’t argue with that.

“When you say handsome, are we talking like, James Dean, or James Deen?”

“We’re talking Denzel.”

“Denzel, like, Nineties Denzel or-“

“We’re talking _Devil in a Blue Dress._ ”

Wade nodded approvingly and looked to Weasel, gesturing toward Michael with a thumb. “This guy knows what’s up.”

Weasel, looking monumentally lost, held up the Seagram’s. “How about a celebratory round?"

“They’re on him,” Wade agreed.

“Put the Tito’s on my tab as well,” Michael added magnanimously.

“Weasel, buddy, you’re gonna have to step up your game,” Wade said. “Cuz otherwise Mikey might be my new best friend.”

Weasel didn’t hesitate a moment before responding, “I’m fine with that.”

He paused, brow furrowing slightly. "Wait, who?"


End file.
